


Controlled Elocution

by cruisedirector



Category: King's Speech (2010)
Genre: Aristocracy, Community: kings_speeches, Drabble Sequence, England (Country), Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Het and Slash, Jealousy, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Love Letters, Money, Motherhood, Multi, Open Marriage, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Psychology, Radio, Romance, Royalty, Secretaries, Secrets, Shopping, Siblings, Singing, Speech Disorders, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teaching, Therapy, Weddings, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-10
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble sequences based on 'The King's Speech' and occasionally on the historical figures surrounding those central to the film. I did quite a bit of research on subjects such as the likely identity of the equerry in the film, so if you loathe RPF -- though I'd argue that the movie itself is RPF -- please be forewarned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Endearments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Celandine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/gifts), [Dementordelta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/gifts), [Miss M (missm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't just the stammer that stops the words.

(1)

David is as careless with personal correspondence as he is with state papers. Bertie blushes when his gaze falls on the letters spread out for all to see.

"My sweetheart," they begin. Edward VIII calls himself a boy; he calls Mrs Simpson and himself WE. He invents endearments. He signs the letters "more & more & more," sometimes following "I love you," sometimes leaving it understood.

The notes sound pathetic for a man, let alone a king. Yet when Bertie thinks of the restrained letters he has exchanged with Elizabeth, even after their wedding, he can’t help envying his brother.

 

(2)

"It isn't just fear of stammering," he tries to explain to Logue, later, having escaped from David's noisy weekend party. "Even when I write, I find that there are things I can't express."

"Do you mean politics or social conventions?" Always Lionel assumes that official duties are Bertie's only concern, unless Bertie tells him otherwise.

"I mean affection." The word comes out sounding cross. Anger is one feeling that Bertie has never had trouble expressing. "Can't say those words."

Logue's eyebrows shoot up. "Such as?"

"'Sweetheart,'" Bertie tries to say. He doesn't stammer, but the word sticks on his tongue.

 

(3)

"Say them to your daughters," Lionel had suggested, but now that Bertie is conscious of trying, he can't force the words to come. His own mother never called him _darling_.

Now that Lilibet is older, she resists her nickname, wanting to be called after her mother and the famous queen. And Margaret talks so quickly that he can't slip in his adoration.

"Love," he calls Elizabeth one afternoon. She shoots him a look, reminding him that his equerry and secretary are just outside. Even among friends, she refers to him as "The Duke."

Bertie would prefer a bit less propriety.

 

(4)

"Pretend it's the F word." Lionel grins. "Say it as though you aren't supposed to say it."

"Darling," Bertie spits at him. "Dear one."

"Beaut," chuckles Lionel.

"B-beloved." Bertie can't muster the anger to say it to Lionel like a profanity. He thinks _Sweetheart_ , but, because Lionel keeps grinning, says "Bugger!" instead.

Lionel only smiles more. "Very good, love," he says, as easily as if he were speaking to a sweetheart. Perhaps it's not just for encouragement.

Bertie wonders, again, how it would feel to have the gift over and over, like a parent to a child. Like true love.


	2. Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's worth all the hard work.

(1)

He may be next in line to the throne of England, but Bertie is also a sad boy gazing at a model that Lionel won't let him finish until he sings. Until, not unless; Lionel doesn't doubt that Bertie is going to give in.

Perhaps Lionel should be kinder. Bertie just lost his father. But it won't take long for him to sing. He can't wait to get his hands on the little plane, and Lionel wants him to, not just for Bertie's sake. Lionel has been waiting for such an opportunity to observe Bertie's fine motor skills up close.

 

(2)

 _The grand old Duke of York, he had ten thousand men..._

As often happens when Lionel recalls Bertie's title, the nursery rhyme creeps into his thoughts. He must be careful lest he should start to hum it in the office. At home, he's less vigilant.

"Are you using that as an exercise with your pupils?" asks Myrtle. "'And when they were up, they were up, and when they were down, they were down.'" She acts out the words, standing and sitting. "Like you do with Jack and Jill."

"You're brilliant, sweetheart," he says, walking over to give her a kiss.

 

(3)

"Here's your shilling." Bertie sets it down as if he can't risk touching Lionel to put it in his hand. Lionel is too surprised at first to thank him, then doesn't want to interrupt Bertie's train of thought as Bertie accepts Lionel's apology and plunges ahead.

Where did the shilling come from? Did Bertie think of it as he left the car, asking the driver if he had a bob? Or had the King asked someone at the Palace for some cash?

Lionel is itching to touch it, to discover whether the coin is warm from being in Bertie's pocket.

 

(4)

Bertie seats Lionel and his wife in the royal box at the coronation, giving Myrtle the thrill of her life as she dresses in finery surpassing even her wedding gown. Lionel feels self-conscious in silk stockings and is afraid of tripping over his ceremonial sword, but one glimpse of the medal on his chest makes even his toothache diminish.

The night before the coronation, Lionel learned that he would be recognized in the Coronation Honours List for his services to the King, becoming a Member of the Victorian Order. All that Bertie seeks in return is Lionel's smile as he speaks.

 

(5)

Lionel fears that, as King, Bertie will feel even more constrained by decorum. Yet once he has been crowned, Bertie seems more at ease with the notion that he can make the role his own, not trying to emulate his father or his brother.

"Keep everyone out," he laughs to his secretary. "I shall be rolling on the floor doing my speech exercises."

Once they are alone, Bertie orders Lionel to sing with him. When Lionel tells him to waltz, Bertie grabs him and swings him around the room.

He rarely stammers now, but Lionel doesn't point it out.

 

(6)

"Mmmmmother." Bertie's eyes are closed, his face unusually relaxed. "Mmmother. Mother." Then his jaw tightens fractionally. "Ffffffffather. Ffffa-fa- Fuck. Ffffffffather."

"Deep breath," Lionel reminds him, touching his chest to remind him to inhale from the diaphragm. "Where is it getting caught?"

"Here." Grabbing his hand, Bertie brings it up, placing Lionel's fingers just below his jaw. Lionel's thumb brushes his throat, and Bertie's breath hitches. Unexpectedly, so does Lionel's. "It gets tight right in there."

Gently Lionel presses down with a finger, massaging the spot. "There?" he asks.

Bertie doesn't speak. His eyes have closed again, chin nodding, lips curved.

 

(7)

It is Bertie's moment, yet Lionel has never received such friendly praise and acceptance at court, even from friends of the king and hangers-on who have made their disapproval of his origins apparent.

"Thank you, again," says the Queen when she steps back inside. "I've never seen him so pleased with himself."

"A marvelous job," Wood whispers while the BBC technicians pack away their equipment.

"Well done, old chap," mutters Grieg as he passes with Lascelles.

The loveliest welcome comes from Princess Margaret, who introduces her new tutor to Lionel. "This is Mr Logue. He is Papa's friend," she announces.

 

(8)

Lionel witnesses the burdens firsthand. He sees how hard it is for Bertie to spend his days touring the shattered streets of London, talking to people who have lost family members, greeting returning soldiers who have given up limbs in defense of the nation. There are few, thinks Lionel, who would wish for the wealth and prestige of royalty if they understood the sacrifices that came with them.

Bertie's greatest privilege, thinks Lionel, is the ability to demand absolute privacy. When he asks to be alone, his people know better than to meddle. No speech rehearsal will ever be interrupted.

 

(9)

"If I were someone else, would you do all this for me?" asks Bertie, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Of course I would." Lionel waits for Bertie to look up before smiling. "Most of my patients aren't royalty, you know."

"Most of your patients don't demand that you give up dinner with your family to work on speeches. Or make you drive across London during air raids. Or ruin your Christmas."

"You've never once ruined my Christmas," Lionel says firmly. "Serving you is the greatest joy of my life."

"Because I'm the king," scowls Bertie.

"That's not true." And it isn't.

 

(10)

Bertie is in no mood to rehearse the broadcast. "I want to celebrate, like everyone else."

"But afterward there will be congratulations, and all that food." It's not easy for Lionel to cajole, though Lionel, too, has been invited to join the festivities. As happy as he is that the war has ended and his sons are safe, he feels sad. His work with the king may be coming to an end.

Bertie studies him. "You enjoy the practice more than the congratulations," he guesses. "I owe you for all you've done, Logue. We'll just have to keep at it."

 

(11)

"They're cheering for you," Lionel objects, but Bertie won't stop, tugging at buttons and suspenders and ties. "You should go out there. Let them congratulate you."

"I don't want their congratulations." Bertie's voice sounds as confident as his fingers feel on Lionel's bare skin. "I only want yours."

"You have it. We can do this later..."

"No. I don't want to wait. I didn't stammer once. Now I want my reward."

Then Bertie can't speak any more. His mouth is busy. Lionel tries to reach for him, but Bertie won't be distracted.

And who is Lionel to deny the king?


	3. Vowels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie gets used to making lots of noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dementordelta came up with the idea and wrote several of the lines of the last drabble.

(1)

Bertie objects less to shouting vowels when his wife goes along with it, so Lionel often invites her in. He knows that Bertie will practice more if she prods, and he suspects that she is a champion at prodding.

One aspect bothers the patient. "It doesn't seem fair that you call my wife 'Your Royal Highness' while I'm always Bertie."

"If she were my patient, I would use her name." Lionel sings through the vowels, considering. "Would she be a Liz or a Bess?"

"She'd say that's not your business."

It makes Bertie grin when Lionel chants a quavering "O."

 

(2)

Bertie knows how ill Elizabeth still feels when she can't hold the long E.

"You'll have to shout vowels without me," she croaks, covering her mouth to cough again.

"I hate it," he tells her. "It was awful being at Sandringham trying to practice without you."

"I'm glad you missed me." Despite her pallor, she smiles. "Don't skip your appointment. Have Doctor Logue do the vowels with you."

"I've already told the driver that I'm going." Bertie grins for her. "But there are some exercises he can't do with me."

Elizabeth's laugh is weak but animated. "You might be surprised."

 

(3)

"You promised you'd do your exercises, after."

Bertie stretches lazily, knocking a pillow off the bed. "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh," he sings.

Grinning, Lionel nods. "And Eeeeeeeeee?"

"Eeeeeeeeee for everything you give meeeeeeeee..."

With a helpless laugh, Lionel kisses his chin. "And Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii?"

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii still haven't caught my breath for the rest of the vowels."

Still chuckling, Lionel sings along. "Ohhhhhhhh yes you have."

"Ohhhhhhhh no I haven't!"

"Youuuuuuuu are being naughty." Leaning across Bertie to retrieve the pillow, Lionel thwaps him with it.

"Youuuuuuuu..." Bertie is laughing too hard to hold the note. "...make me want to do different sorts of exercises."


	4. Three Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth deals with her mother-in-law, Lionel's wife, and her daughter's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first is for miss_m, who asked for a drabble about Bertie's mother. I started writing the last the day Bertie's great-grandson William married Catherine, but decided it wasn't celebratory enough.

(1)

Elizabeth fidgets as Bertie introduces Lionel to Queen Mary. Being presented to Her Majesty is considered a great honor, and the Queen Mother gives Lionel a gracious greeting.

But when Lionel asks whether she enjoyed the King's Christmas broadcast, she replies, "My husband always gave very fine speeches." Bertie knows to school his features to indifference, though Lionel can't hide his surprise.

"She would never acknowledge that Bertie had trouble speaking," Elizabeth whispers to Lionel, "Royal children must be perfect. Like Bertie's poor youngest brother."

Elizabeth loves Lionel then for stepping closer to Bertie, like a wolf protecting a pup.

 

(2)

"She'd make a fine Queen," Elizabeth says once the door to the Logue home has closed.

"Do you think so?" Apparently Bertie has been too focused on Lionel's reaction to have formed an opinion of Myrtle Logue.

"Did you see how quickly she pounced after he introduced you? 'Will Their Majesties be staying for dinner?' She hates being kept in the dark as much as I do." Elizabeth chuckles. "We should invite them to the Palace for dinner."

"I'm sure she'd like that." With the two women there, Elizabeth thinks, Bertie and Lionel both might have reason to be frightened.

 

(3)

"I'm surprised His Majesty is so nervous," Lionel admits. "A wedding is a happy occasion, and he'll only be speaking in front of family."

"The King has to say something nice about the Hun," jokes Elizabeth. Her feelings about Lieutenant Mountbatten are hardly a secret. "To tell the truth, I think he's more worried about going to pieces when he has to give away his little girl."

Elizabeth had been concerned about summoning Lionel while he was still in mourning for Myrtle, but Lionel seems happy to help with the celebration. Now, though, he looks teary. "Deep breaths," he prescribes.


	5. The Equerry's Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not his place to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something about the man who says barely a dozen words in the film yet appears in nearly every scene in which we see Bertie in an official capacity. Took me a long time just to find out his name; the character is credited merely by his title.

(1)

Harold Campbell knows how lucky he is to have his job. It is whispered that Queen Mary got rid of his predecessor for courting a woman.

James Stuart had admired the youngest daughter of the Earl of Strathmore before the Duke did. Now Campbell must pretend not to know that, though he thinks of it whenever he bows to the Duchess.

As the Duke's equerry, Campbell is privy to secrets, overheard conversations, dictated correspondence, one-sided discussions over the telephone. He knows who the Duke calls, and when, and often why.

He is trusted not for his devotion, but his silence.

 

(2)

Campbell glances at the messy pile on the desk. On top sits a half-written letter to the Duke's brother, words crossed out, bottom of the page torn. Campbell's impulse is to straighten the pile, but he knows better than to touch anything.

The Prime Minister has rung again. Whether this constitutes a sufficient reason to interrupt the Duke's speech lessons, Campbell can't say for certain. It's easier to stall the secretary and the man for whom he works.

Campbell can say for certain that if he interrupts the Duke and Logue for less than an emergency, he'll suffer for it.

 

(3)

No matter how disastrous a speech might be, it is Campbell's job to remain impassive. He may offer no words of reassurance beforehand, no comforting jokes afterward.

He can see the Duchess weeping at Wembley. He can't miss the Archbishop's frown at the Accession Council. Yet he is not permitted to react to the Duke's misery nor the dismay of others.

The Duchess once guessed that Campbell's job must be terrible on days when the Duke is in a temper. But in truth, the temper makes it easier. Repressing his own anger stops Campbell feeling the Duke's pain so keenly.

 

(4)

"Tell him that I'm b-b-busy."

He knows immediately that that isn't what the Duke really wants to say, but it isn't Campbell's place to contradict a prince.

"What shall I say if he offers to wait?"

The Duke's closed fist strikes the desk. "Tell him that I'm very busy."

"Very good, sir." It isn't very good, but it isn't Campbell's place to say that, either.

He exits the office, delivers the message. Logue shows no sign of anger; he nods once, thanks Campbell, and departs.

It certainly isn't Campbell's place to tell Logue that the Duke is being an idiot.

 

(5)

After the coronation, Campbell will become Groom of the Robes, a grand title for a more ceremonial position.

Ironically, the elevation will leave him with less access to the man he has served for so many years. He won't know the details of the King's life as he did of the Duke's.

Still, Campbell will be honored with the CVO, and a few years later, so will Logue. Some of the loftier gentlemen at court will scoff at that: an Australian, a commoner, a man with no degree.

Campbell may have to hold his tongue, but silently, he will approve.


	6. Inappropriate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the King wants, the King gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of these were written for Celandine for her birthday. The other half I started writing for Dementordelta before we were even sure this was going to count as a fandom.

(1)

It isn't Bertie's hour, it isn't even Bertie's day. Lionel has been preparing to leave the consultation room for the evening when the door bangs open.

" _You've_ done this to me," Bertie accuses.

The chair and desk trap Lionel, who stumbles to his feet as Bertie strides across the room. "What have I done?" Lionel asks. This might be a game, but Bertie has little time for games these days. For the King of England to drop by, unannounced and unaccompanied, is shocking.

"You've done _this_ ," Bertie groans, grabbing Lionel by the arms, erasing all his thoughts with a kiss.

 

(2)

Bertie is stronger than Lionel expects. Not that Lionel could have expected (nor even dreamed, no of course he didn't) to find the King grinning and pressing him into the corner, away from the windows, one hand shooting out to lock the door.

It's Lionel's own fault that he can't even tell whether the microphone is still on, since Lionel told the broadcasters to switch off the warning light. Now he has no choice but to keep silent. No moans, no pleas, not even a grunt as Bertie proves how effective those mouth exercises have been at loosening his jaw.

 

(3)

Bertie insists that the only mouth exercises that really help before he gives a speech involve sucking something. Specifically, something of Lionel's. But Lionel refuses to let him finish, because the saltiness might make Bertie's throat close over.

And Bertie needs to be denied. He's a more forceful speaker when he knows that Lionel aches as much as he does through the highs and lows of the speech. No matter how it turns out, Bertie knows that as soon as he steps back from the microphone, Lionel will reward him, against the wall or over the desk, whatever Bertie wants.

 

(4)

"Not here. Bertie, you're out of your mind..."

"Right here. Quickly, before anyone knocks." Bertie shoves neat stacks of papers into one messy pile and drops it on the floor, sending the top sheet floating halfway across the room. His tie lands on top of the pages a minute later, waistcoat loosened, trousers falling down his legs.

The King of England flashes Lionel a smile as he bends over his desk, hips in the air. "I've half a mind to give you a spanking," growls Lionel.

"But someone might hear." Bertie's grin says he's won. "So give me something else."

 

(5)

Lionel can rationalize it in his consultation room, in Bertie's office, even in Bertie's bed, yet his own bed is different. The King and Queen don't sleep in the same room, but Lionel's bedroom is equally Myrtle's. Though she hasn't objected to sharing Lionel, he can't help feeling that to share their bed with Bertie would be a betrayal.

He does it anyway. Bertie can talk him into anything.

Myrtle comes home just as he's starting to strip off the sheets. There's no need for explanations.

Lionel thinks he's too tired, but Myrtle could always talk him into anything, too.

 

(6)

Lionel may not be able to recover as quickly as Bertie, yet Lionel can keep it up for ages without losing control. "I'm getting too old for this," he'll complain. Then Bertie will insist that Lionel isn't a doctor and shouldn't try to diagnose himself.

Lionel can make Bertie come twice before he does once, by which time Bertie is reduced to helpless, blissful exhaustion. He can't do much but talk, but nothing brings Lionel over faster than Bertie murmuring that he wants Lionel to fuck him in every position imaginable, or, even if he stammers, saying "I love you."

 

(7)

The maids, the valets, the secretaries, the equerry, even the Archbishop will no longer meet Lionel's gaze. Lionel presumes that this means they all know, and loathe him for it.

Then Bertie asks him to come along while his brother David is visiting. Lionel watches the way the staff treats the Duchess of Windsor. They’re unafraid to look directly into her eyes, and their tone conveys neither careful politeness nor forced indifference, but contempt.

They would die for the King. So long as Bertie loves Lionel and the Queen accepts him, Lionel will be safe.

More importantly, so will Bertie.


	7. Bereft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie has the 1944 Christmas broadcast completely in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the dialogue in this was swiped from Lionel's published diaries and letters. The last line was quoted by his grandson in a television special; I thought it made an interesting contrast with his "official" comments in the book 'The King's Speech.'

(1)

Two days before Christmas, all seems right with the kingdom.

Lionel goes to Windsor to go over the wording of the holiday broadcast, the most optimistic of Bertie's reign. "Let us hope that before next Christmas Day, the story of liberation and triumph will be complete," Bertie will tell his people. Lionel changes "calamities" to "disasters," since it would be calamitous indeed to hear the King stumble over the hard C.

Then, as they sit by the fire, Bertie shatters the peace with one sentence: "Logue, I think the time has come when I can do a broadcast by myself."

 

(2)

Bertie doesn't mean to shock. His recent speeches have gone over exceptionally well. And Bertie feels guilty that Lionel is never home with his family for Christmas dinner, though Lionel's sons are grown, though even Myrtle knows that Lionel would just as soon be with the King.

The Queen suspects as well. She has already declared her belief that she and their daughters should sit beside the King while he speaks. If his voice is strong and confident, his subjects will credit it to the nearness of his family, not to guidance by a teacher whom Bertie has finally outgrown.

 

(3)

To Queen Elizabeth, Lionel is all smiles. "I feel like a father who is sending his boy to his first public school," he says, chuckling as she pats him on the arm.

To his guests, Lionel appears so busy with preparations for Christmas dinner that he nearly forgets the speech. Minutes before it begins, he disappears into the bedroom to listen, then comes back, beaming, to their congratulations.

To his wife, Lionel tries to make light of his feelings. He even allows their guests to hear him afterward speaking on the telephone, joking to the King, "My job is over."

 

(4)

Lionel will try to remember it as a happy Christmas, particularly the next year when he must face the holiday without Myrtle. The speech goes as well as Lionel or Bertie could have hoped. When, afterward, Bertie half-apologizes, telling Lionel that he wanted to get through just one on his own, it is with pride in his voice.

Lionel expresses pride as well. He does not give voice to the pain that made him listen in privacy, neglecting his guests, feeling his age.

Bertie has gone on alone before, on tour, at meetings, among royals. Yet Bertie has always returned.

 

(5)

"I wonder if you realize how grateful I am to you for having made it possible for me to carry out this vital part of my job," Bertie writes in the new year. "I cannot thank you enough."

Lionel claims that he only ever wanted Bertie to be able to speak without stumbling, replying, "I would not be human if I were not overjoyed that you can now do these things without supervision."

It's a lie, like what he told the Queen. Yet Lionel only confesses the truth to his diary: "I felt like a father bereft of his son."


	8. Shillings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lionel has a love-hate relationship with coins.

(1)

"Come and have a look at this," says Bertie. He's holding the designs for new coins bearing his likeness. "Remember when you said that my face was next? Here it is."

Lionel is impressed with how confident Bertie looks, not only in the official profile on the shilling, but standing here proudly in what Bertie had always suggested to Lionel that he thought of as his father's place, or his brother's.

"You look very regal," Lionel tells him, and is rewarded with a wide smile.

From the doorway behind Bertie, where she stands watching, Elizabeth smiles at Lionel as well.

 

(2)

"It's going to be difficult this month," Myrtle tells Lionel, showing him the page with the numbers. The war has sent most of Lionel's patients far from London, yet he knows that he must stay, because of the king. Even with the boys gone, it isn't easy to buy what's needed.

He looks at the projected expenses, saying, "I need a few bob for a gift."

"What gift?"

"A book." Lionel always gives Bertie a book for his birthday. He won't let the war prevent that.

"Of course," says Myrtle, lowering the amount of money allotted for paper and ink.

 

(3)

Lionel never spends Bertie's shilling. During the worst weeks of the war, he carries it with him in his pocket, as if by protecting Bertie's coin, he can keep Bertie safe.

Later still, when he hears on the radio that the king must have an operation, he sits by the heater, warming the shilling in his hand.

He passes it on to a grandson who will treasure it as a reminder of his grandfather, yet never understand what it meant to Lionel. How could he? The face of George V is on this coin, not the king whom Lionel knew.

 

(4)

The boy watches while his grandfather buys him a model airplane kit. He wonders why this cheerful event has made his grandfather sad.

His grandfather pays without looking at the money, trusting the shopkeeper to count it for him. It's as if the old man can't bear to see the faces on the coins.

When the shopkeeper hands over the change, it goes quickly into a pocket. A shilling slips out, drops to the floor, and rolls to the boy's feet. His grandfather sighs in relief when it lands face down.

"I don't like to give him away," he murmurs.


	9. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth keeps an eye on her husband's epistolary habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole a few lines from actual letters exchanged between the Duke of York and his speech therapist. The rest of this is completely made up.

(1)

Even when they're expected to be gracious, it's common for Bertie to disappear after a speech to send off a note to Logue about how it went. On tour, when he can't get to a telephone, he writes to Lionel constantly.

Elizabeth believes the letters must be dull to anyone unfamiliar with speech therapy. They contain rehearsal logs, reports on practice sessions, things of that nature.

Why she decides to read the note crammed into his snuff box, she can't say. Perhaps it's how the page has been disguised, folded so many times that it pushes up on the lid.

 

(2)

Elizabeth has never heard her husband use language like this. She has never heard him express wishes like this either, though for a shy man, he can be quite direct in bed.

The words make her face grow warm. Did Bertie write them just to see the fantasies spelled out, with no intention of sending the letter? Or has he said things like this to Lionel?

Has he done things like this with Lionel?

She knows Bertie isn't careless. He didn't leave this letter by accident in such an obvious place.

He must have intended for her to find it.

 

(3)

"My dear Logue," the letters usually begin, followed by words of thanks: "I must send you a line to tell you how grateful I am for all that you have done for me…"

Then, mentions of tongue twisters, breathing exercises, chest compression. Never before has Elizabeth wondered whether the words might hold a double meaning.

She'd seen another note a few days earlier, praising Lionel's tenacity, telling Lionel that he'd filled Bertie with confidence for this trip. Indeed, Bertie is a changed man. His speaking is vastly improved.

Lionel must have filled him with something.

She'd wanted results, hadn't she?

 

(4)

Once the shock wears off, it makes Elizabeth smile. At least it isn't that actress who offered to give Bertie private breathing lessons in her studio. At least it isn't an ambitious social climber like Grieg. At least it's someone Elizabeth likes.

Yet even if it weren't, she wouldn't try to stop it, because Bertie had done what he had promised her he'd do before their wedding. He'd destroyed not only her letter, but all memory of its contents... the one in which she'd told him, for the last time, that she couldn't marry him. Because she wasn't a virgin.

 

(5)

In Panama, Bertie lets Elizabeth see the letter he is writing. "'Reading every day is hard to arrange for any length of time, but I do so at odd moments, especially after exercising when I am out of breath,'" he tells Lionel. "'Your teaching I must say has given me a tremendous amount of confidence and as long as I can keep going and thinking about it all the time for the next few months I am sure you will find that I have not gone back.'"

"You do seem to think about it all the time," she says, winking.

 

(6)

His father's illness puts a strain on them all, especially with David away, leaving his duties to Bertie. It's not a happy birthday for him.

"You should write to Lionel before we go down," she suggests.

"Won't we be late for dinner?"

But he listens to her, thanking Logue for his birthday gift. "'I don’t know whether you sent it with a gentle reminder for me to come and see you more often or not, but I liked your kind thought,'" Bertie writes. It is difficult for him, being away from London for so long, yet his speech remains strong.

 

(7)

"My job is over," Lionel says, only half joking, after Bertie's wartime address goes off without a hitch. Instead of being pleased, the compliment leaves Bertie agitated.

"Suppose he thinks I don't need him any longer?"

"Write and tell him otherwise," Elizabeth orders her husband. "Make sure to tell him how important his preparations are to you." She smirks a bit.

She will never see the letter, nor Lionel's response, which must be particularly salacious for Bertie to keep it hidden, but she will know from Bertie's exuberance and Lionel's mischievous grin before the next speech that Lionel is convinced.

 

(8)

She knows how dreadful Bertie must feel when he can't find the strength to write to Lionel.

Logue has been ill as well, she knows; he was hospitalized when his wife died, and he's looking his age. His letters, too, come less often, and the contents are so civilized that Bertie leaves them out for her to see.

"Read that one to me again," Bertie asks her. It's a chatty note about the College of Speech Therapists, of which Lionel has persuaded the king to become the patron.

In public language, she supposes, that is a formal declaration of love.

 

(9)

"Ask him to come," Bertie begs her.

Elizabeth doesn't tell her husband that she has already written to Logue suggesting that he come to the palace to visit the king. She hadn't dared request anything more specific. Logue's sons may intercept his mail, and she wants no gossip about Bertie's health or speech problems after his operation.

She writes another letter, unsure what she'll tell Bertie if there is no response. If Lionel is on his deathbed, it would be better if Bertie never knows.

Somehow Lionel comes, as always.

She leaves them alone, two tired old men, and weeps.

 

(10)

"I want to send this to Lionel Logue," Elizabeth tells her newly enthroned daughter.

Surely Lionel knows what the king kept in his snuff box. When he receives it, Lionel will realize that Bertie's wife knew what was written in the letters saved and treasured for a time where Bertie could read them whenever he wished.

Now the letters have been destroyed, as Elizabeth trusts Bertie's letters to Lionel have been as well.

She hopes Lionel will understand that in sending the snuff box, she is passing on Bertie's love, in the only way she can, for Lionel to keep.


End file.
